To Stand With Brothers
by Tidia
Summary: Dastan wants to impress his new brothers and be accepted into his new family, but to what lengths and how does an act in the past effect a battle in the future.
1. Chapter 1

Title: To Stand With Brothers

By:Tidia

Disclaimer: I surely do not own the movie or characters from which this is based. Just borrowing.

**Notes: So, if you have me on alerts on Supernatural, please do not worry. I just liked the movie (seeing it on cable) and this story came to me. (It is too bad Disney has no plans for a sequel- but if people want one, then start buying the DVD to show an interest). Anyway, it is about a brother relationship and I couldn't resist. Ridley, my writing partner will not know about this until she sees it because it was written in a few hours. All mistakes are my own. If there is interest, I was thinking of a modernized Prince of Persia AU. Let me know if anyone wants to see it. Also, if someone would let me know what live journal site to post to, then I would consider it. All mistakes are my own. Enjoy reading!**

Part 1:

The thing about being a new brother was that Dastan needed time to become a part of their daily lives. Dastan felt very alone in the palace while trying to become accustomed to his new life. He had food, a comfortable bed, and clothing, but there was no camaraderie like he had with the other street urchins. The king asked to be called father and that Tus and Garsiv should be called brothers, but they weren't very interested in him, an interloper. His brothers' attentions were drawn to their already existing lives of training, their family, and he had to catch up and learn how to ride and use a sword. He missed Bis, his friend.

Tus and Garsiv tolerated him. Their paths crossed in the training yards and with the tutors, but he was not at their level, at least not yet. Daston's day was regulated with training and studies. It left little time for him to explore, but he made the most of the time he had, jumping and leaping while investigating the palace. He took the time to spy on his brothers' activities to try to understand them better.

At dinners amongst just the immediate family they ate in the king's private area. Dastan spoke only when someone asked him a question, otherwise he watched, tried to mimic and fit in. That night during the evening repast, Dastan listened to the day's events in the kingdom by his new father's side.

King Sharaman gazed at Dastan for a moment before referring to his middle son, "Garsiv, why don't you and Dastan go for a ride tomorrow?"

Garsiv frowned, but then tried to cover up his reaction. "Not tomorrow, Father. I have a prior duty."

The King nodded, then added, "There is the next day."

"Very well," Garsiv replied with a sigh as father winked at Dastan.

Dastan made his plan to find some extra time to practice riding. He rose early the next morning, grabbed some water and a pomegranate before making his way to the stables, no one the wiser. He had picked a horse; actually it had picked him by snorting in his direction, naming it Pirouz because he would be victorious in proving he could be as noble as his new family. His goal was to make his father proud, and ride as well Garsiv so then the second son would want to spend more time with him.

He had mastered the basic skills in a short amount of time, but Garsiv and Tus rode as if they were one with their horses, while Dastan was more secure with his feet. He wanted to be better, expect more of himself. Standing up, he danced between the horse and the fence that kept the horses corralled. This would be a useful skill in battle- surprising, too. As with all his training he imagined battles, and what his skills could bring to them to win the day for the king. His skills had kept him alive this long, they could serve the Empire and him.

He lost track of time as he enjoyed the freedom. Datson felt lighter in his head as he rounded another turn in the corral. Garsiv would not be ashamed of him. In his mind he thought of conversations between him and his new brother, like he used to have with Bis and the others.

"Daston!"

Somebody waved their hands in front of Pirouz. The horse did not take kindly to being startled, and started an off paced gallop. Daston jerked his head to his name being called, but the distraction and the horse caused him to stumble. He had to save himself, and pushed off, trying to control a landing, but he came down hard against the fence until he found himself flat on his back in the hard packed sand.

"Dastan?" It was Tus's voice and coming closer.

He kept his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath that had left his body while scampering away. His other thought was to defend himself from people who tried to hurt him, regardless that he knew this was his new family. Dastan reined in his breath, controlling it instead of panting and gasping. His heart was still crashing against his chest, but he felt able to open his eyes, blinking in the light.

Garsiv and Tus reappeared in his line of sight, blocking the sun and looking worried.

Tus bent down, ghosting a hand over Dastan. "Are you alright?"

"Why did you do that?" Dastan muttered, his voice sounding weak as he was still straining for normal breaths. Perhaps they didn't intend to hurt him, but they should not have startled him so.

"We were calling you. You didn't answer," Tus explained, looking up to Garsiv who then decided to bend down next to Dastan. "It is time for your studies and no one knew where you were."

"Were you trying to kill yourself? Standing on a horse like that?" Garsiv reprimanded, shaking his head when he didn't get an answer. "I'll take care of the horse."

"Can you get up?" Tus asked after a moment, offering his hand.

Dastan assessed his body. He felt shaky, disconnected, but tested getting up on his elbows before scooting his knees in. "I'm fine."

Tus continued to give him some space, treating him like a wounded animal. He sat in a cross-legged position until Garsiv returned. "We should tell father."

"No, I'm fine. See," Dastan got to his feet, not as fluid as normal, but enough that he hoped to convince his brothers. "Please, don't say anything, please."

Garsiv gave him a skeptical eye. "Fine. Though you should try to be less, well, you."

Dastan smiled from relief. "I'll try." Maybe there was hope for him and his new brothers. He forgot about his aches and pains as his brothers walked him to their studies. Tomorrow, the ride with Garsiv would be a turning point.

The ride did not go as Dastan planned. There was no time for talking, Garsiv wanted to race. So they raced and Garsiv was surprised when Dastan got ahead a few times.

"It's because you're smaller than me."

Garsiv was a sore loser. Dastan whispered to his horse, Parouz to not go so fast, but his horse wanted to run and win, leaving Garsiv pouting. Dastan grew tired as the day went on, his back sore where he had fallen the day before.

He had seen it last night, a mass of aching bruises. He had found it difficult to not wince during dinner as the aches and pains settled in, but luckily no one noticed and Tus and Garsiv had kept their promises.

Dastan was glad when he and his brother were returning to the palace. He did not like the stuffiness of his studies, even though he was told repeatedly they were important by his tutor. He struggled to pay attention to his tutor as he felt unable to take a deep breath. He preserved, the sun ticking the time away until his day ended.

"Not hungry, Dastan?" His father asked at dinner that night as he moved the food around his plate.

Truth be told, Dastan's head ached, and his body felt odd. He found it difficult to stay seated and wished he could go back to his room. "No, father."

Sharaman was not satisfied though, and pressed Dastan, believing he needed to draw his adopted son out of his shell. "Tell me about your ride. Garsiv?"

Garsiv was not quick to answer, still stewing Dastan guessed so Dastan intervened. "Kira," which was Garsiv's horse, "is very fast."

"That's a diplomatic answer," Uncle Nizam answered, looking directly at his brother, the king.

"And did Kira win all the races?" his father asked, an eyebrow cocking upwards.

Garsiv answered this time, "Not all, Father."

Sharaman laughed since he knew his sons so well. "And that is why you are pouting my son?"

Tus started laughing; too, soon Garsiv lost his dower face and was able to relax. With that the dinner was called to an end.

Dastan tried to get up to get to his room as quickly as possible, but was clumsy on his feet, stumbling into his father who caught him. Dastan was unsuccessful with hiding his wince and gasp as Sharaman gripped his shoulders.

"Dastan?"

He righted his stance as his father moved his grip under his arms, lifting up the back of Dastan's shirt slightly. It was enough for his uncle to notice.

"Sharaman, his back-"

The king leaned over him and lifted the remaining part of his adopted son's shirt. "What happened, my son?"

Dastan did not want anyone in trouble. The king knew he liked to climb so he used it as an excuse. "I fell while climbing. I misjudged my steps." He hated to lie and felt his face blush with shame.

"No more climbing, Dastan. You must be more careful," his father ordered.

Dastan felt crushed at the proclamation. He did not want to against the king.

Tus cleared his throat. "We startled his horse while Dastan was practicing his riding and he fell."

Sharaman carefully helped Dastan sit down again, and ordered Nizam to send for healers. "None of you thought to say anything?"

"We promised Dastan," Garsiv stated. "He said he wasn't hurt."

"What have you to say?" The king placed his fingers under Dastan's jaw so that he was forced to look up from where his head was bowed in misery.

Dastan didn't mean to reveal everything and blamed is on his aching head, lack of sleep and food. "I wanted Garsiv to like me and I thought if I learned to ride really well then we would have that in common."

The king settled his hand against Dastan's cheek. "I see."

Awhile later Dastan was settled back in his room, on his stomach, feeling better. The healers had attended to him, reporting to the king that his new son needed rest, having probably cracked some ribs when he fell. He would feel better with rest, and Dastan was ordered to stay in bed until the healers said otherwise.

Dastan turned his head with the soft click of the door opening.

"I don't think he's awake. We should leave this and go," Dastan recognized Garsiv whispering loudly.

"Are you awake, Dastan?" Tus asked.

Dastan turned his head to let them know he was not sleeping. "I'm sorry I got you in trouble." He hoped that their father had not been harsh with the older boys.

"You should of told us you were hurt, little brother," Tus admonished, he poked Garsiv who stepped forward, closer to the bed.

"We can go riding again. When you're better," Garsiv said, looking uncomfortable after he glanced at Dastan's back molted with bruises. "We brought you a gift."

Tus held out the pendant, multiple charms on a cord, like the ones his brothers wore. "They are for protection. We picked them especially for you."

Tus placed them on the stand next to his bed so Dastan could see them. "Thank you brothers, I'll wear them always."

TBC


	2. chapter 2

To Stand With Brothers

By; Tidia

Same Disclaimer.

Notes: How the one act from the past effected a battle in the future- and yes, I haven't forgotten the pretty necklace that Dastan wore in the movie...And if there is interest in a modernized version please let me know and I will write something. (not something long, but something)

Part 2

Dastan and his brothers had been separated, hunkered down by the archers of the Zahedan fortress who had the tactical advantage of being on higher ground and prepared. Persian soldiers who went forward were shot through and easy pickings. Their father had ordered them to the region to quell the uprising; one ruler believing he had the power to break from the Persian Empire could lead to others and a civil war that would break the nation.

"What are you doing?" Bis asked him as Dastan crawled away from the east part of the fortress.

"I'm getting my horse," Dastan answered, still in a crawl walk so not to be noticed by the men in the fortress.

"Dastan, we've been ordered to stay put until we receive the signal." Bis gestured to the north where his brothers were being forced to camp.

As a soldier in his father's army Dastan was supposed to follow orders and not make them. He was not commissioned, wanting to be like everyone else without special treatment. He needed to prove himself. But he could not stand by while soldiers were being picked off, when there was a chance one of his brothers or uncle could be next to be wounded or worse. He had a way to help.

"Don't worry, Bis. I know what I'm doing." He clapped his friend on the back. They had been reunited years ago with Dastan convincing Bis to join the Persian army for a better life.

In the cover of darkness, dressed in black, Dastan made his way unseen to the walls of the castle. Nestled close to the eastern wall with archers poised for a distant attack, he stood on the horse,, looking for purchase on the wall. When he found it, he began his silent climb, only looking up when he was near the archers, waiting for a chance to spring into action. With the element of surprise he was able to take one of the archers and throw them from their vantage point.

It was then he started to attack the other archers.

Garsiv was by Tus's side, the Persian army at a standstill because of the archers poised above them, stopping any attacking from moving forward. It was a stalemate, an act of patience, which Garsiv did not have in limitless supply.

His eyes were locked on the distance with the telescope. "What is he doing?"

"Who?" Tus asked as his brother caught his attention.

'Your brother," Garsiv growled. He was Tus's brother when Dastan was doing something foolhardy. He passed the telescope to Tus.

"Call the order to attack from the east," Tus announced. "And we need to have a long talk with Dastan after the battle is won."

It was a brutal and final attack with the forces of the Persian army bearing down on the weakened fortress. Garsiv was unable to keep an eye on Dastan, but was able to find his man Bis in the melee. Bis informed Garsiv about Dastan's stunt to get into the fortress undetected.

The Persians had pressed and gotten the gate opened so Zahedan was at their mercy.

Garsiv galloped to his brother. "Tus, the white flag has been raised. We have their unconditional surrender."

Tus grinned with the excitement of battle and satisfaction of having carried the day. "Order that in the name of Sharaman, King of Persia, that their ruler and subjects should present themselves in their great hall with all haste," he ordered one of his soldiers.

"Yes, your highness." The man bowed before making haste.

"Have you seen Dastan?" Tus looked around for their errant younger sibling.

Garsiv shook his head. "I've been a little busy, brother."

"Take a team within the fortress, make sure they are following orders and find him. I'll hold this ground," Tus said as he set off on his horse to manage the remnants of the battle and contain the prisoners.

Garsiv was not happy to be his brother's keeper. He led the way, to the main staircase, finding minimal resistance. What little him and his men found surrendered their swords with minimal fuss.

He found Dastan near a window casing, bent over with two bodies next to him.

"Dastan!" Garsiv called out with relief upon seeing his brother. "You did not follow orders. Tus wants words with you," Garsiv said in the way of a gruff greeting.

Dastan rested a bloody hand against the wall and pulled himself to a fully erect position.

Garsiv studied his brother, seeing part of an arrow protruding from Dastan's shoulder and a slash along his stomach, cutting into the leather armor. "You're hurt."

"This place is larger than I imagined, and well-guarded." Dastan leaned heavily against the wall and then began to slide down it.

Garsiv matched his brother's descent. He hollered for one of his men to get assistance. "No one asked you to do such foolishness." He placed his hand on the slash wound to keep more of the blood from leaving Dastan's body.

"I couldn't risk you or Tus getting hurt." Dastan gasped at the pressure and tried to wrangle away. "I'm expendable."

"You are not." Garsiv held his brother in place, wanting help to get to them quickly. He would carry his brother out if he had to. "You are a Prince of Persia."

Dastan looked to the wound, distracted by it. "The third one and not of noble blood. If someone has to make a sacrifice then it's going to be me, Garsiv."

Garsiv did not want to hear such nonsense talk spoken by his brother who needed a more healthy dose of self-preservation. "Be quiet, you've lost a lot of blood."

"I don't think it is all mine." He glanced to his shoulder, which had trailed a substantial amount of blood down his arm. "Maybe it is?" He added before he passed out, leaving Garsiv to pick him to carry him to help.

"Stay strong, little brother."

Tus remained in his tent, drawing up plans for Zahedan and who amongst their allies would rule over the outpost to secure it. He had asked not to be disturbed, waiting until Dastan awoke before he could pay attention to the other matters at hand.

He allowed Bis to stay at his friend's side. Dastan seemed less distressed by having someone near to him, talking to him. Bis called him over when he noticed that Dastan was stirring.

"Where am I?" Dastan said from the pallet brought in for him when Garsiv had carried out an injured Dastan from the fortress days ago, wracked with worry that Dastan was dead in his arms. Dastan struggled to move, but gave up when he discovered how week he was. He turned his head towards his friend.

"In Crown Prince Tus's quarters," Bis answered with a whisper.

Dastan had not noticed that his older brother was nearby.

"I shouldn't be here." Dastan began struggling again, his breath coming in pants. "I should be with the soldiers. Help me up, Bis."

"Stay where you are Dasta," Tus put a stop to Dastan's struggled with a hand on his brother's sheet covered leg. "Bis, you can leave now."

Bis gave his friend a shrug. "Be well, my prince," he said as he departed. Tus assumed he would spread the word that Dastan was awake.

Tus settled his eyes on his brother's pale face, wane with sickness still. "You've been unconscious for three days, and your fever just broke this morning. Father was being sent for."

"Why?" Dastan croaked, swallowing.

Tus lifted Dastan up to a more inclined position, setting pillows behind his back, but careful not to put any stress on the stomach stitches. He poured a glass of water and brought it to Dastan's lips. Dastan frowned, but did not argue, showing Tus that he truly did fell weak. "We thought you were going to die, Dastan."

Dastan rolled his eyes. He glanced down at the white linen bandage across his stomach and the bandage wrapped on his shoulder where the wound had been cauterized to stop its bleeding.

"There is talk of your bravery. I think it bordered on recklessness and insubordination." Tus took up the seat that Bis had vacated, moving it closer to the pallet.

Dastan licked his lips. "I couldn't get word to you or Garsiv, and I knew I could help. The soldiers should not have to risk their lives, and neither should you."

Garsiv had informed Tus of the discussion he had with Dastan before he had succumbed to his wounds. "And you can because you are expendable?"

Dastan looked away. "I am."

Tus waited a moment. "Garsiv told me. Can you please look at me?" Dastan turned his head slowly back to his brother. "You are not expendable, Dastan, not to your brothers and not to Father."

"You're my family." Blue eyes held firm in a solemn promise. "I would die to protect you."

"And I you," Tus grasped his brother's lip forearm, and was glad when he was rewarded with Dastan's strong grip in return.

"You know there is only one thing that I can think of to make you more careful." He had spoken to Garsiv and his uncle about the matter. "Give you a field commission and your own company of men to command."

Dastan moved his hand to settle on the wound on his stomach. "I have not earned that."

"You have. The men look up to you for your heroics."

"And stupidity," Garsiv said as he entered the tent. Bis must have gotten word to the middle prince. He removed his helmet in a few short strides was at Dastan's side, grinning down at their younger brother. "You need a bath."

Dastan sniffed and grimaced, agreeing with Garsiv's assessment. They had only cooled his body because of the fever, not for cleanliness.

"I'd like to choose my own men," Dastan replied after a few moments.

Tus thought it a good sign that his brother was not protesting, but knew Dastan enough to know there was another purpose, as did Garsiv.

"Let me guess, the street trash," Garsiv said with a sigh. He believed the princes should not associate with the common men, but hold themselves higher as nobles.

But for Dastan, he would always have a place in both worlds. "Yes, and they are very skilled men."

"Very well," Tus agreed, giving his younger brother leeway. "When you are better."

"I'm fine." Dastan said with a few blinks that showed how tired the conversation had made him. "I should go back to my quarters with the others."

"You are a Prince of Persia," Garsiv roared at Dastan. "When you are ready to be moved, and trust me when I say I've seen camel dung look better, then you will have your own tent, befitting a prince. Enough about being a common soldier, Dastan. You are not. You are our brother."

Dastan didn't flinch as his brother's outburst, quite used to Garsiv's temper.

"When you first came into our family and fell, Father spoke to us privately," Tus began his story about that time long ago. "He said he was disappointed in us, and though we better men than what we displayed because we did not realize that you were no threat to the Crown. That you truly were and wanted to be a brother at heart, and that no one could ask for more loyalty than that from such a brave young man."

"And Father is always right," Garsiv added, taking a seat on the pallet. "We ask that you take care of yourself brother, for our sakes."

"I promise to try," Dastan replied, moving his leg so it touched Garsiv. "I cannot do better than that."

That was the best they would get from their younger brother, but at least they were able to remind him of his importance in the family.

"You told us that one day being able to stand on a horse would come in useful," Garsiv teased.

Dastan smiled. "I told you it would work." Dastan moved his hand to his neck.

Tus knew he was looking for the necklace his older brothers had given him. He had removed it when the healers were helping his brother, kept it safe keeping in his pocket. He pulled it out, and gently placed it around his brother's neck.

"Thank you," Dastan said, his hand resting on the charms as his eyes closed in a more natural sleep. Both brothers understood the thank you for what it was, a thanks for watching over him and caring for him like a brother and a prince.

The end


End file.
